


A Quiet Evening

by Marian_De_Haan



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marian_De_Haan/pseuds/Marian_De_Haan
Summary: A quiet evening in Space City turns exciting as Blake and Co are trying to rescue Bek from Terra Nostra imprisonment.





	A Quiet Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Published in The Avon Club Newsletter #76. Reproduced here on the author's behalf and with the author's permission.

All eyes in Space City's most expensive restaurant turned to stare at the couple that entered. They were a striking pair. The golden-haired woman was beautiful. Her red, long-sleeved blouse, cut low at the front, fitted tightly round her breasts while the matching frock fell down to her feet in elegant folds. Her jewellery was splendid without being ostentatious.

The man, dark of hair and with brooding brown eyes, bore the haughty expression of the born aristocrat. Splendidly attired in a silver tunic over a black high-collared sweater and tight-fitting trousers, he moved with almost feline grace.

A waiter hastened to guide them to a table. Another came with the menu, hovering until they were seated.

"You order, dear," the man said off-handedly while accepting the wine list from yet another waiter.

Jenna bit back a smile; being called 'dear' by Avon was an entirely new experience. But it was easier than having to remember assumed names - they definitely did not want to use their own. Space City might be neutral, the price put on their heads by the Federation could be just too tempting to a casual listener.

The restaurant specialised in Earth's ancient French kitchen, with the language and customs appropriate for that period.

"Monsieur is a connoisseur," the waiter purred when Avon ordered a bottle of the most expensive wine on the list.

"Monsieur is also thirsty," Avon answered pointedly.

The wine was swiftly brought. The waiter ceremoniously uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into Avon's glass.

Liberator's computer-expert took a cautious sip. Spitting out the fluid, he exclaimed: "You call this wine? This muck isn't fit to bath in!"

Jenna laid a restraining hand on his arm. "Please, darling, do not make a scene!" Her whisper carried through the entire room.

Avon gave her a cold stare. "Look, dear, why don't you go and visit the ladies' or something, while I sort this out." Shifting his gaze back to the waiter, he continued scathingly: "Do you hope that by this ancient charade you can make your customers forget their faculty for distinguishing a decent wine from cleaning fluid?"

Pursued by sympathetic glances from the other diners, Jenna fled from the room. The ladies' room, downstairs, was empty. Jenna pulled up her sleeve and activated the communicator on her teleport bracelet. She let it chime three times, the agreed signal for the others that she was at the designated spot. Now Cally could get a fix on her bracelet and set the coordinates for the other side of the wall where, according to Orac's information, the prison complex was.

After half a minute two chimes came back, announcing that the co-ordinates had been set. Jenna let the sleeve fall back over her bracelet and began to study the pattern of the wall-tiles while waiting.

* * *

In the teleport area of the Liberator Cally adjusted the co-ordinates. "There, that should put us in the corridor."

"If Orac's got it right," Vila observed gloomily. "Why can't you teleport straight into his cell?"

"We don't know in which of the cells they're holding him," Blake reminded him curtly.

"What's the matter, Vila?" Cally asked. "Don't you fancy another visit to Space City?"

"No, I'd prefer a quiet evening up here."

Blake smiled grimly. Vila's first visit had landed him with what must have been the biggest hangover of his entire life. He wouldn't be surprised if the memory still gave Vila a headache.

Cally walked briskly over to the teleport bay. "Come on."

When Vila had reluctantly taken up position beside her, Blake activated the system. Their forms shimmered and disappeared, Vila's protests still floating in the bay for a few seconds.

Blake sighed. He did not like staying behind and letting others take the risks. The memory of Gan's death was still very raw.

When Orac had reported that Bek had been taken prisoner by the Terra Nostra, Blake had been determined to rescue him. Inevitably that proposal had been met with the usual objections, Avon excelling in sarcasm while Vila surpassed himself in blatant selfishness. Then, just as Blake had been on the point of losing his patience, Avon had volunteered a plan which looked not just feasible, but even fairly safe.

The only drawback, from Blake's point of view, was that it left him out. His offer to take Avon's place had been firmly refused: "Your face is too well known, Blake! Besides, I'm better suited for the role of wealthy, arrogant, bad-tempered aristocrat than you, wouldn't you agree?"

Avon's rare touch of self-mockery had done nothing to reassure Blake. Avon wasn't in the habit of volunteering to do his job for him. He had to have some ulterior motive.

Well, at least Jenna was with him. Blake knew he could trust her, something she had demonstrated again that very day.

For Blake had made a mistake. While talking Avon's plan through, he had mentioned that Bek might be a suitable substitute for Gan. The suggestion had not been well received. They were still coming to terms with Gan's death, Cally had argued. It was too soon to think of a replacement. Blake had made an end to the discussion by pointing out that they first had to free Bek. And he might not want to join them anyway.

Later, while Liberator was on course for Space City and Blake had gone to his cabin for a rest, Avon had come knocking on his door. Let in, he had not wasted words:

"Blake, if Bek joins us, I'm leaving! I've got enough putting up with you and your followers, I don't need another shiny-eyed, woolly-brained revolutionary to play with my life! Besides, the fact that Bek got caught proves that he isn't dependable." Avon had turned to the door, raising his chin. "Me - or Bek; the choice is yours, Blake!"

An apt parting shot. Blake had still been chewing it over when Vila appeared. Nervously fidgeting, he'd stated in a frightened tone: "Avon says he's leaving if you let Bek stay. Well, the fact is, in that case, I want to go with him. i mean, I'd be SAFE with Avon. He won't lead us into danger." Getting the rest of us killed, like Gan, Blake silently translated. "Well, I just wanted to tell you." Vila had scuttled out.

Cally had been next. "Blake. If Avon goes, I have to follow him. He needs me - he needs someone to keep him from falling back into crime. He's too good a man to waste his life on swindles and robbery."

Cally's intended defection did hurt. Blake had never had any illusions about Avon or Vila, but Cally shared his aim, his ideals...

He'd been still pondering this when Jenna had presented herself. "Blake, you should know that Avon has offered me a partnership. Buying our own spacecraft, venturing into free trade."

"And you agreed?"

"No, but it is tempting. And Avon's right, Blake, we don't need another crew member!"

With that, she'd left.

The message was clear, Blake thought, turning his mind back to the present. For a moment he seriously considered to let them all go and find himself a crew of dedicated rebels. But Avon's wide-ranging technical knowledge was indispensable, as were Vila's talent for picking the most complicated locks and Jenna's piloting skills. And Cally's telepathy was brought to good use at this very moment... Suddenly worried, Blake checked his watch. It should not take them that long!

* * *

At the end of the corridor that bordered the ladies' room, Cally and Vila materialised. Seeing him about to exclaim, she quickly telepathed: //Quiet, Vila!//

According to Orac the place was fitted with devices primed to pick up every sound. A clever scheme as most intruders would merely look for surveillance cameras, which were not there, and think the place safe.

Cally concentrated at the row of closed cell-doors. //Bek, listen. This is Cally, from the Liberator. We've come to get you out. Give us one knock, to tell us where you are.//

She repeated the message twice, until a single rap sounded hollowly through the empty corridor.

Cally pointed at the fourth door. Vila had his tools ready. It took him just under thirty seconds to open the lock. They went inside to the bruised figure who sat on the bare floor. Cally put a bracelet on his arm, then chimed her communicator twice. The next moment they were teleported up to the Liberator.

* * *

In the ladies' room Jenna counted the chimes with relief. One, two, three - the agreed sign: mission accomplished. She hurried back to the dining room.

Avon was still in magnificent form, giving the unlucky waiter the full benefit of his venomous tongue. "Have you finished," Jenna asked, sitting down.

"Indeed." Avon took the bottle and turned it over in his hands. "The waiter will bring us a new flask. One in which the contents are in accordance with the statement on the label."

Hardly able to keep his feelings from his face, the waiter took the bottle away. He was back very soon.

Avon eyed the proffered bottle with disdain. "This is the same one, which you've recorked." He pointed at the label. "When I handled it, l made those two tiny scratches, just to make sure that I couldn't be cheated."

His head turning a bright shade of red, the waiter mumbled something about a regrettable mistake.

"Oh leave it," Jenna said, seeing that Avon was happily prepared to keep up the fight for the rest of the evening. "Forget about the wine. I'm hungry."

With an imperial gesture Avon dismissed bottle and waiter alike. "Bring two glasses of caratuli-juice, freshly squeezed! You can't tamper with that." The bright blue juice of the exotic cactus fruit, a delicacy from the planet Overon, would turn purple when something was added to it.

"Although l'd say he'd dearly love to poison yours," Jenna observed when the waiter had gone.

* * *

In the sickbay of the Liberator they helped Bek onto a bench. "Go back to wait by the teleport, Vila, "Blake ordered.

"It will be hours before Avon and Jenna will be finished," Cally said, applying a dressing to Bek's head.

"And all that time we have to stay in orbit." Vila observed. "Why can't they leave dinner and come up now?"

"Because that would look suspicious." Blake frowned. It had seemed logical when they'd discussed the plan, but now he wondered whether Avon had not just wanted to spend a quiet evening away from the Liberator, enjoying a splendid dinner while trying a little more temptation on Jenna.

"Can you manage?" he asked Cally.

She nodded.

"Then I'll go to the flight deck, to keep an eye on the scanners." In the doorway he paused. "Vila!"

Vila began to move reluctantly towards the exit. "Why is it always me who gets the boring jobs?"

Blake caught Cally's exasperated look. Her gaze shifting to Vila, she remarked: "Well, you said you wanted a quiet evening, didn't you?"

* * *

Jenna toyed with her dessert, scoops of ice cream in various shouting colours which could never have been achieved by natural ingredients. Avon was tucking into his with relish. To her surprise, he had been good company - well, bearable company - throughout their dinner. He had not offended any more waiters, nor uttered a single acid remark.

As usual avoiding all talk about his own past, Avon had asked Jenna about her smuggling days, listening attentively to her answers. His reasons were clear to her - contemplating to set up a smuggling business of his own, he would want to gather all the relevant data he could. Now he was coming up with schemes, asking her opinion about their feasibility. Jenna was aware he was subtly tempting her, indicating that together they could make a fortune.

Jenna began to wonder why she still chose to stay with Blake. At first she'd admired his idealism, without sharing it. But he was becoming increasingly fanatical. Maybe it was time to get out before he got them all killed...

Determined, she shoved her dessert away. "All right, Avon, you've demonstrated that life with you CAN be bearable. But the answer is still no!"

"No names," he cautioned, finishing his dessert. Indicating hers with his spoon, he asked: "Don't you want it?"

When she shook her head he reached over to take it.

"Aren't you afraid of my germs?" she asked.

"I would judge those colorants to be able to kill off any germ bold enough to land on them." His precise diction made it impossible to tell whether he was serious or joking.

"I'm surprised you are willing to eat that stuff."

"I'm fond of ice cream." A smile touched his lips, very briefly. "My secret sin. And frankly, I did not expect to succeed in persuading you now. But one day even you will not be able to stand his fanaticism any longer." The scathing was back in his voice, now he was talking about Blake.

Avon's eyes locked into hers. They were very brown, very penetrating, very - appealing. "Wouldn't it be prudent to provide for that occasion?"

Exercising all her willpower, Jenna looked away. "What have you in mind?"

* * *

When they left the restaurant, Avon led Jenna into a small, deserted alley separating the building from the next. "According to Orac's information, the headquarters of the Terra Nostra runs under this entire complex." He tapped the ground lightly with his toe. "Exactly beneath this spot lies the vault with their main safe. That must contain a fortune!"

Jenna felt her heartbeat quickening. The mentioning of money always had that effect on her. That was why she'd taken up smuggling; a faster way to wealth than any ordinary piloting job.

"Vila will be on teleport duty," Avon continued, "He can put us down inside the vault."

Jenna put her finger on the flaw. "And who's going to crack the safe?"

"I am. Orac has found out the type of lock and I've let Vila explain the mechanism to me. It's complicated but I can do it. We'll have to cut Vila in, of course, but since he need not know how much is there, a small amount will suffice."

Jenna found herself agreeing wholeheartedly.

Avon brought his bracelet out from under his silver sleeve. "Vila, are you awake?"

"O, very funny!" came the irritated reply.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Then put us one storey down, these precise co-ordinates. And be ready to bring us up quickly."

They landed in total darkness. "Here." Jenna saw a light flicker, and felt a torch being pushed into her hand. "Hold this!"

In the beam of the torch, Jenna impatiently watched Avon's hands working on the lock. He seemed to be knowing what he did, displaying an air of quiet confidence she could not share. It was taking too long! Surely Vila would have had that lock open in half the time...

Avon did something complicated. Suddenly a deafening alarm went off right over their heads. The beam of the torch moved upwards while she reached for her bracelet. Beside her, she could just hear Avon shout over the din: "Vila, bring us up NOW!"

While dematerialising, Jenna saw a rectangle of light appear in the far wall where a door was pushed open.

* * *

"Quick, wasn't I?" Vila said. "Where's the loot?"

He was grabbed violently by the shoulders.

"You idiot!" Avon hissed. "You've made me set off an alarm! Your mistake could have cost me my life! Never again am I going to rely on YOUR instructions!"

Vila squeaked. Approaching footsteps made Avon release him. When Blake hurried in, Avon was casually walking over to the console to put his bracelet in its slot.

"So you're back." Blake sounded relieved. "Orac's registering a security alert in the complex."

Vila caught Avon exchanging a brief look with Jenna.

"Your move," she mouthed behind Blake's back.

Avon shrugged. "They must have noticed Bek's escape sooner than we had anticipated."

"Let's get the hell out of here," Vila suggested.

"Right." Blake moved to the corridor. "Jenna, get us out of this sector fast!"

With relief Vila saw Avon and Jenna follow him out. As soon as he judged the path clear, he fled to his cabin. Inside, he carefully locked the door, in case Avon would want to continue taking out his frustration on him.

He felt extremely satisfied - it wasn't often one could get the better of Avon. Vila had deliberately instructed him falsely, causing him to set off the alarm rigged into the lock. Avon seemed to have no suspicions, merely assuming that Vila had made a stupid mistake. As to sharing in the loot - well, he had no doubt that Avon would have cheated him.

Vila knew he was only tolerated because of his talent for opening locks. Once he'd passed on his knowledge to Avon, Vila's own usefulness would have ended. But now Avon would never again demand instruction from him. So whether he chose to stay with Blake, or to throw in his lot with Avon, Vila would be indispensable - and therefore safe.

* * *

Blake, alone on watch, looked up from his screen when he heard someone enter the flight-deck.

"My time to relieve you," Avon said.

Blake consulted his watch. On the dot. In that kind of thing Avon was utterly dependable.

Carrying a piece of electronic equipment and some tools, Avon walked over to his position. "How's Bek?"

"Bruised and sore. Apparently he was beaten up pretty thoroughly. But it will heal."

Avon climbed into his seat. "What have you decided to do with him?" His voice was carefully neutral.

Blake suddenly knew with absolute certainty that leaving Liberator was the last thing Avon wanted to do. Even with Cally and Vila prepared to follow him, he did not want to go.

Blake smiled to himself. It would be interesting to see whether Avon would feel obliged to carry out his bluff. Or, if not, what reason he would come up with to justify his change of heart.

On the other hand, there was too much opposition amongst the crew against Bek joining them. Blake knew when to carry his wishes through and when to relent.

"When he's recovered, we'll take him to the planet of his choice."

The faintest of smiles slid over Avon's face. "A wise decision, Blake."

THE END


End file.
